Don't Leave Me to Die
by Paperback-Walls
Summary: Grell is out on a collecting mission with Ronald when he experiences an odd sensation. He thinks absolutely nothing of it at first. But then it gets much worse. When he is eventually hit with the shocking truth, our usually fiery shinigami is left hopeless and desolate. In his time of need, there is no one to help him... No real pairings, some implied GrellxUndertaker. R R
1. 1: Symptoms

**AN: Welcome to my first Kuroshitsuji fanfiction~! ^^ It'll be a little darker than my other fanfictions, so hopefully that's okay! ^^; Sorry that this chapter is so short; I had it longer but I decided to make the majority of it in chapter 2. I may change that formatting eventually, and if I do, I'll let you know~ Thanks! Read and review!**

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"Ah, why do souls have to be so difficult these days?" a certain red-head shinigami whined, combing out his long hair with his fingers.

The younger male beside him with two-toned hair shrugged. "I dunno, seemed pretty easy to me."

"That's because I did all of the work!" Grell cried shrilly. "And look what it did to my hair!" Ronald Knox had no response to that statement, instead turning away and looking out at the setting sun. Grell, after struggling with a certain tangle for a minute more, finally quit trying to fix his hair and looked to the sky as well. There was a fairly noticeable chill in the breeze that made his hair dance and his skin prickle as the two shinigami stood near the edge of the roof of the building they had collected from. With a small sigh, Grell begrudgingly pulled out the clunky metal clipboard that William now required all members of the Dispatch to carry with them and checked the two names of the humans whose souls they had reaped. One, a woman of 27, was to be sent to heaven. The other, a man of 46, was not.

"Sutcliff, sir, can't we get out of here now?" Ronald asked around a wide yawn. "I'm beat and there's supposed to be an office party tonight!"

Grell bit his lip a bit in contemplation. Was the younger shinigami aware that his sentences contradicted? Thankfully Grell didn't care. "Well, alright," he decided, turning with a flip of his hair to head back toward the small set of stairs that had lead them to the roof in the first place. "Besides, a party is _certainly _more appealing than collecting the last three souls on William's stupid li—"

All of a sudden a dull flash of pain darted up from his wrists to his chest, climbing up through his veins like sharp jungle vines; it certainly caught him off guard. _What is this? _

"Mr. Sutcliff? Grell, sir, are you okay?" a voice said from somewhere to his right.

"Yes, of course," he replied, rubbing at his itching wrists during a moment of contemplation. "It's just some odd prickling."

It looked as though Ronald was about to say something, but the older shinigami really didn't want to linger on little useless sensations; he had an office party to entertain.

"Come now, let's hit up that party, Ronny~" he said with a mischievous grin and a clap of his hands. Ronald smiled, fist-pumped, and then followed the feminine male down the stairs that led them down from the roof. Said male, however, couldn't quit thinking about that tingling in his veins. He lightly put one hand to his right wrist, holding it subconsciously as they descended.

_'I better be okay, or so help me…'_


	2. 2: Getting Worse

**AN: And here's chapter 2! Didn't I tell you it would be much longer? Lol. Things aren't starting so well for Grell. What'll happen to him next? Read, review, and follow if you like it! Thank you!**

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For the remainder of the night, Grell was too busy having fun and annoying William to think about what had happened that evening. When he awoke the next morning to go to work, however, he felt something strange; his wrists ached, as if pressure had been put on them for an extensive amount of time. The only cause he could think of was handcuffs, but with a sharp chuckle he put that joking thought to rest; he knew that William hadn't gone so far as to handcuff him to something to keep him from bothering him.

"That's odd," he said quietly to himself, sitting on the edge of his bed and rubbing his wrists. "I didn't suspect anything to happen after that incident..." As if to prove him wrong, he could see faint red marks around both of his wrists, marks that could only be made by fingers; judging by the angle of the marks, those fingers must have been his own. He probably felt something while he was sleeping, he finally decided. With the mystery solved, Grell could now easily get ready for work.

Or so he thought.

Upon standing he felt his knees wobbling slightly. He instantly blamed it on the office party and continued his walk to the washroom. He took a quick look in the mirror—he had to cringe at the wretched state of his crimson hair—before half-closing the door, stripping, and then stepping into the shower. He turned the water handle all the way to hot and then sighed in contentment: no more achy wrists. He simply stood in the path of the water for a moment more before reaching for a sponge.

A sharp bout of pain kept him from grabbing the object, though. Branching from his wrists and spreading up his arms, he could feel a fiery, almost acidic pain. He yelped a little, not having expected the pain, and pulled his hand back to hold his wrist with his other hand. "D-Damn it," he cursed through jagged clenched teeth, gripping his wrist in some sort of attempt to subdue the pain. This was certainly not a simple prickling anymore.

"Sutcliff, sir? Are you ready for work?" called a familiar voice from the doorway of Grell's bedroom.

Grell cursed once more. He always forgot that they shared a flat. "Damn it, Ronald, _no_, I'm not!" he called sharply. "What do you take me for, a carefree school girl with natural beauty?"

There was silence for a moment. "That's what you told me to take you for, sir," Ronald called back.

"…" Grell sighed and restrained himself from wringing the boy's neck in his current personal state. He thought over his options through the pain pulsing through his arms and—slowly but surely—his chest. Should he skip the rest of his shower in order to get ready more quickly or throw all care to the wind and take as long as he wanted despite William's strict rule about punctuality?

He unfortunately had to choose the former. "I'll be ready in a minute, Ronald," he finally called to the teen. "Just go ahead of me and I'll meet you at the office."

Ronald didn't respond, or if he did Grell couldn't hear it over the running water, and therefore the older shinigami considered him gone. He relished in the heat of the water for a moment more before shutting it off. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around him, and then shook out his hair. He took another glance in the mirror. He still looked horrible in his opinion. Only after stepping out into the bedroom with the towel fastened around his waist did he realize that the pain had subsided.

"Thank goodness," he mumbled as he slipped on his shirt. "I would _not _be able to deal with that all day…"

After he deemed himself presentable, Grell walked back to the washroom to do his hair, and after properly drying, combing, and styling it he slipped on his heels. "You finally ready, girl?" he said to himself with a wicked grin at his reflection in the mirror. "Ooh, good smile; I'll take that as a yes! Good thing, too. I'm already forty-five minutes late~"

He walked out of the washroom, then his bedroom, and finally the flat as a whole, taking notice of Ronald's absence. "At least he didn't stay and try to slack off," he commented with a smirk, shutting the front door and then beginning the fairly short walk to the office building. He caught a glimpse of three late interns dashing to the building.

He smiled and ran up so that he was in front of them and then he turned around, running backwards with ease. "This looks fun," he commented with a shark-toothed grin. "Mind if I join~?" With a happy little cackle at the interns' reactions to his sudden appearance he turned to face the building again and fell back a bit so he could run alongside them. Dumbfounded, they all exchanged glances of shock, honor, and confusion all at once.

"A-Are you running late as well, M-Mister Sutcliff, sir?" a blond teen asked him a bit nervously.

Grell laughed in reply. "Oh please! That's _Miss Grell _to you boys~!" he told them, winking. "And I suppose you could say that I am since I'm both running _and _late!" Not giving them any chance to reply, Grell sped up and happily slid up the metal hand rail that ran beside the stairs leading to the front doors. With a singular loud click, Grell's heels hit the concrete and he walked calmly to the doors and threw them open as he entered the building.

"You're friendly neighborhood drama queen is here to star in act one of this magnificent play we're performing and to add a twist of _death~_" he cooed boisterously, waving to the man at the receptionist's desk and blowing him a kiss as he clicked "fiercely" down the short, open hall to his department. A few of his fellow shinigami had gathered around and were discussing something when he did this; most turned their heads and paused their conversations to watch His Flamboyancy enter the room, but Ronald chose instead to "whoop" and throw a peace sign in the air while a buddy of his whistled appreciatively.

"Oh, no really, save the cheering~!" he insisted playfully, lifting one foot, tracing his lower lip with his left index finger, and then shooing them off with his right hand.

His fun was relatively short-lived, however, when a stern, hollow voice cut through it like a death scythe. "Grell Sutcliff, you are forty-seven minutes, thirty-six seconds late," William deadpanned, closing his pocket watch and returning it to its home before adjusting his glasses with a quiet click.

Grell rolled his eyes. "Oh come now, Will! I thought you would have been able to change after last night~" he cooed as he went over to him and leaned playfully on his shoulder, drawing small, intricate patterns on the stoic man's chest with a finger. He was instantaneously punched in the gut and shoved to the floor by a very familiar foot.

"Such games are not meant to be played in the workplace, Grell Sutcliff," William reported dully, pinning the flamboyant oddball down by his hair with his foot and adjusting his glasses once again.

"Ow, ow, ow, _ow!_ Will, that _hurts!_" he whined, flailing around and managing to successfully slap the other shinigami a few times.

The dark-haired male stayed where he was, however. "You missed today's assignments, Grell Sutcliff," he continued, ignoring Grell's cries for help. "You have been assigned to yet another mission of soul collecting in northern Mortal England with Shinigami Dispatch Member-in-Training Ronald Knox. Although, given the fact that the both of you did not fulfill your duties last night I am not entirely content with this arrangement."

"Oh please, Will; why can't we have a little break from work every once and a while?" Grell whined, still struggling to pull himself out from underneath William's freshly polished shoe.

"Because if all of you had a 'little break every once and a while', the record books would become constipated with the names of those who must die and whose souls must be collected, thus leading to a state of panic in which we must recover from the overbooking. You see, a break is simply not possible, nor will it be tolerated as long as I am in charge of this department." With that final word, he walked away, leaving Grell free to scramble painfully to his feet.

"Ronny, why is Will such a meanie?" Grell cried, trying desperately to fix his hair.

Ronald shrugged in reply. "How should I know? I can't tell what he shoves up his—"

"That is enough, Knox," a certain Alan Humphries retorted sharply, cutting him off before walking away toward the main doors, gripping at the lapel of his suit coat as he did so. He looked as though he was in some sort of hurry, but Grell decided that finding out why was not his priority.

"Geez, what's _his _problem?" Ronald whistled.

Grell didn't have a proper response for his question, so he simply shrugged. "Beats me. Now, let's go! We're off to collect the poor, unfortunate souls of the dyin—" He was cut off by a sharp pain similar to what he had felt that morning, but this time it was worse; he could feel it crawling into his chest from his arms. It was spreading. With a short gasp of pain, Grell backed up to the wall, gripping at his wrists. It was like he could barely breathe. _'Wh-What's going on…?' _Pain shot through him in waves, temporarily keeping him from moving.

Ronald, who was actually about to walk out of the room, heard his struggling and looked over curiously. "Grell, we don't have all—Grell? Grell!" He dashed over to the older shinigami, putting an arm around his slumping shoulders. Grell could barely feel it. "Sutcliff, sir, are you alright? What is it?" he asked hurriedly, looking up briefly and connecting eyes with Eric Slingby, who, seeming to get the message, ran to get William.

"D-Damn…prickling," Grell hissed. "It's gotten worse…It _hurts, _Ronald!" Through the blinding pain he seemed to feel Ronald's panic. He couldn't hear the blonde's words, but he knew he was speaking.

And then another voice rang in his ears. "What is all of this commotion?" William said sharply. "Has Grell Sutcliff broken a heel?"

Grell never thought in all of his days that he would hate to hear sarcasm in William's tone.

"H-He's said he's in pain, sir," Ronald reported hesitantly, standing back from him now.

_'N-No, Ronald, don't leave me...!'_

And then William's voice was closer. "Grell Sutcliff, if this is another of your games—"

"I-It's not! W-William, it isn't…!" he managed, feeling as though he was going to cry. He apparently sounded it as well, for William's tone changed drastically.

"Call the medic," William said instantaneously, and Grell heard someone run out of the room; by the heavy footsteps he could easily guess it was Eric. Grell just barely opened his eyes to see a sliver of William's face down in front of his own. "Grell, when did this start?" he asked him seriously, no true emotion showing in his eyes.

"L-Last night, but it wasn't—it wasn't like this," he hissed through clenched teeth, holding in a cry when he felt a jolt straight to his heart. William seemed to understand what was going on and Grell watched him stand up with the returning of the heavy footsteps.

"He's out on house call," reported none other than Eric, sounding slightly out of breath.

William actually cursed. "Then call Undertaker."

Grell was now reeling. Surely it wasn't so bad that that creep Undertaker had to get involved? And then all at once it was as if a heavy crate was lifted from his chest; the pain was receding. "N-No," he cut into the conversation quickly, catching everyone's attention. "No, don't call him…I-I, I think I'm okay." With what strength he had left after the attack he rose warily to his feet, still relying on the wall to keep him upright. He opened his eyes a little more and could hear his own shallow breathing. That attack really took a toll on him, he realized.

"You think," William repeated, not convinced.

Grell nodded slightly. "Y-Yes; the pain, it's leaving," he said quietly, gripping at his wrists nonetheless.

William stood as well, adjusting his glasses briefly before turning to look through the small group of people surrounding them. "Don't call him," he said now, and Eric's finger hovered over the last number on the wall phone, hesitating.

"You sure, William?"

"No, but Sutcliff seems to be."

Eric hung up the phone without finishing the number. Grell sighed in relief. He was not about to deal with that creep today, not if he had any say in the matter. With a small shake of his head to adjust his hair, Grell slowly let go of his wrists. Just before the sleeves of Madam Red's coat covered them up again, he could see lines in his skin where his leather gloves had been pressed into them. Tugging said gloves up a bit, he brushed himself off and then looked out at everyone.

"Well? Go on, you all have your duties, and I have my own," he said to them all, hoping that the weakness in his voice was simply because of his usual rasp and wasn't a side effect of the attack. As if by magic, the few shinigami that had gathered began to depart, Eric walking to the front doors, Ronald coming to stand beside him warily. Grell glanced over at Ronald now. "Come along, Ronny, dear; we have souls to judge and collect~"

"Yes, Gre—er, Sutcliff sir," Ronald corrected himself; Grell was supposed to be a mentor, not a best friend. Grell nodded and then strutted to the entrance, looking back over his shoulder for a moment to look at William, who was as passive and stoic as ever. He made a small noise and then looked back to the doors, which he threw open for both Ronald and himself. Together they walked down the few stairs that lead to the building and then set off for Mortal England.


	3. UPDATE

Hey guys!

I want to apologize for the lack of updates on this story; I have been very busy with schoolwork (I have a research paper worth 50 percent of our grade due this Monday that I haven't even started!) as well as other activities. That being said, I _WILL_ be continuing this story! Don't worry about that at all~ ^^ It may be a while before I can put up the third chapter, however. Thank you for the understanding!

I also wanted to say thank you to the people who have reviewed in the past week or so! Thank you SO much! I appreciate all of your kind words~ ^^


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